The Butterfly Dream

The Butterfly Dream. A bit obscure, I danced within the rhythms of the wind cords. Jovial, buoyant. While I sing the gifted nature, I saw me; skilled with urbane speech with ability to cultivate things. Most condescending, my capability to think. I was still, still in turbulence of breeze, while my thoughts run wild as winds. I saw a butterfly, dancing. Oh! It was me – flitting and fluttering. Happy within myself, doing what I please. Was I dancing, or was I still? –“the transformation of things.” Thin ice between reality and appearance, truths and illusions. Until I realize it’s a mirror, one with its own-self, once awake, ‘I’ turning into another.